UPCOMING RELEASE: Three Years Underneath Mister R

The follow-up poetry collection to One Year with Mister R: A Poetry Collection of One Man's Journey with Sexual Assualt will be available from Friday 17th October 2025!!! Read on to find out more about the collection, and to get a sneak peek of one the poems included in the collection.

Three Years Underneath Mister R: A Poetry Collection Detailing Three Years of One Man's Journey with Sexual Assault by S P Clark

This collection features all of the poems from One Year With Mister R. (2023) which detailed S P Clark's first year of dealing with rape. Two further unreleased collections are included detailing the next two years of his journey.

Three Years Underneath Mister R. allows the reader to continue the journey with S P Clark.  The honesty, bravery, struggles, trauma and glimmers of hope are on display in his trademark style.  Reading this collection, which has been compiled chronologically, helps to gain an understanding of the many aspects of an often unspoken story.

This collection continues to shine a light on a subject that is so often overlooked.

Below you can read one of the new poems from year 3!

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Uncomfortably Comfortable: Adventures of a Hook-up Whilst Still Trying to Heal from Mister R.

S P Clark

The sun had long gone to bed but the heat of the sun lingered hotter than hot and oppressively flooded my bedroom

My clothes were a pool of sweat from the walk home and my skin shimmered from its ooze 

I waited for my hook-up to arrive (dark hair, body of a swimmer, tattoos and piercings)

Beads perspired down my temples as an anticipatory stirring begged for his touch.

He arrived with a gentle rapping at the door

A considerately quiet knock but urgently demanding for a door to open and to be met by the one he’d seen on the app

We both breathed a sigh of relief as we saw each other were just as expected

He crossed the threshold and I knew there was no turning back

Dazzling lust

His soft lips pressed against mine as our droplets of sweat mingled and befriended each other.

He danced for me to the music in his head

I could feel the beat of the drums in my soul in the silence of the bedroom as he tore his claret vest top from his skin

He walked towards me and I devoured his nipples, biting firm and drawing blood

He undressed me with his eyes then hands

Then he was at my feet trailing his tongue across my thighs

The steam rose from our bodies and the dampness of our sticky, sweaty bodies made a febrile musk that galvanised us into action.

I pushed him down and saw his eyes flicker with desire

I fucked him frantic, furious, fast, frenzied

His legs tight around my waist pulled me deeper

My hands gripped around his throat

I pounded

His firm stomach coated in his flowing juices

He looked just like Adonis in the rain

One last aggressive lunge and I left my seed swishing inside.

Now in the heat we chilled and talked

Entangled tightly like a ball of string.

Between the delicate kisses (delicate now that the instant arousal had been tempered) he spoke to me

A voice so crisp and clear like a Black-capped Chickadee

He told me that as we fucked, he had reached around to finger me several times and I had noticeably flinched

He said I flinched, clenched and even batted his hand away 

I don’t remember doing this

“A gut reaction, a terror since that one awful night when Mister R. took my world away”, I explained

He said, “I’m not him.”

He asked if he could “try to make me fall in love with being touched back there again”

I’ve spent so long in my own private Idaho that it felt right to try.

We lay in bed with the lights on low and his lips tracing a map along my collarbone as his hands danced across ribs

He flicked his tongue inside my belly button then worked his way down and swallowed me whole as his fingers caressed, tugged and teased my balls

Just as I began to thrust inside his throat, he withdrew and looked at me

I knew it was time.

He tenderly turned me onto my front and his nails scratched my spine as though I were a prehistoric bone that could shatter underneath his touch

I held my breath (sharp, terrified gasp) as he reached my arse

He bussed my cheeks so graciously, osculated my flesh, so lovingly aware of the brittle beating heart that pounded inside me

As his tongue touched my ring I felt the release of tears streaming down my face

The vomit lurching up my throat barely being held back.

He responded to my tensing and flexing

He comforted the wailing and encouraged the moaning

He took it at my pace

This was not a race

45-minutes of being lathered in licks

Pain turned to pleasure

Fear turned to fever

Pushed against his tongue pleading “deeper and deeper”.

He brought me to the orgasm I never knew I needed

I was drenched in myself and soaked to my soul

A puddle of sweat and semen screaming for more

And yet…all I could hear as I came down from this high was the grunting and heaving of Mister R. as he took what should never have been his

And then the footsteps of Mister R. walking away and leaving me a mess on the floor.

And I hear I was…a mess once more. 

Yes, it was pleasure but my brain is tormented

God, I said I was sorry, don’t leave me tormented. 

Uncomfortably comfortable and trying to heal

Experiencing things anew that I knew once before

Not sure I can ever let anyone near my backdoor

It was a hook-up and the pleasure was real

But my brain brings pain back to the fore

I guess I was right; it’ll never be like it was once before.

The heat had cooled in my room as we lay like bookends underneath the greying morning light

The tips of our fingers grazed against each other like the strangers we were

No regrets but unsure if what I did was right

My skull felt like it had exploded

The shards of bone stabbed at me with intent to wound

And I wondered if he noticed the scar, saw the destroyed flesh or if he could smell how I’d been used – if it oozed out of me like the sweat from the night before

The musk of the abused.

© S P Clark